Pieces of Lies

by Angela Richardson

  I lay there shaking, waiting for death to come, waiting for the moment I would black out completely and never wake up. “Cover up her face; I can’t stand looking at it. What is she now, twelve?” Feet shuffled around me, “Thirteen I think, and isn’t she a peach?” The gun moved slightly off my head, turning upwards towards the discussion taking place above me.

  “Well put something over her, I don’t want to see a kid’s brains splattered everywhere.”

  I tensed immediately as the shock of those words moved through me, and came to rest in the gaping black hole in my heart. The glimmer of hope I had reserved, was now completely gone.

  “Grow some fucking balls Frank, will you. God damn it.”

  Any minute now I would be dead.

  Loud crashing sounds like someone hitting a wall, a gunshot, and then a blackout. I tried to scream again but I only choked more on my gag. I was hit by something warm and very heavy which toppled on top of me. Something lay on the top half of my body, a dead person, I think. I couldn’t see anything as the weight was covering my chest and head. I felt winded, but I was more thankful that I was alive. There was sudden movement from the heaviness. I think the body was twitching, which caused me to frantically try and move out from underneath it, fearing it was still alive. I instinctively wanted to escape and get as far away as I could possibly manage.

  As I tried to wiggle to get free, I felt a warm liquid substance flow into my hair and downwards, covering my whole my face. I was lucky I was gagged because I would have vomited everywhere from the sickening smell of the stuff. I was pretty sure it was blood. I squirmed some more and managed to move my face out of the current. I twisted my shoulders and pulled my head upwards, coming face to face with a head of dark hair flopped on top of me. I had to squeeze my eyes closed as I saw part of the man’s skull opened up by the bullet in the back of his head. It was all too much for me, as emotions of fear which stalled my body, and my natural survival instinct that pushed me to try and move, were working against each other.

  More gun shots and grunting echoed all around the room. Something grabbed at my foot and tried to pull and drag my body. I tried to kick, but hands pulled me out from underneath the bleeding man and onto my back. I could now see those black boots which kicked me earlier. They belonged to the dead man who had fallen on top of me and whose blood was now everywhere, caked on my face and in my hair.

  Through the red sticky curtain of death, I could see clearly now my father and his associates had taken control of the room. My father’s right-hand man had hold of one of my kidnappers, who he was bludgeoning to death with the back of a revolver. Parts of the kidnapper’s facial flesh started to come clean off his face and the blood splatter flew across the room, landing on my legs and thighs. I just watched in utter horror and revulsion, unable to move from the floor.

  I could only stare horrified, as the men who had kidnapped me were shot and beaten to death before my very eyes. The last thing I remembered was thinking that this was much worse than death, I would never be the same and I would forever be tortured by this reality. I had lost any ounce of innocence I thought I still had.

  Then finally, black. Just black. I passed out, smashing my head back onto the hard cement floor.

  “Norah, Norah.” I felt sunlight on my face, safe and warm. My eyelids parted. It was Clint staring down at me with those eyes that could level me with just one look and encapsulate my heart.

  “I love you,” he whispered leaning over the top of me. I reached up to hold him and draw him close to my chest, but as I lifted my body up and stretched out my arms, they suddenly closed into each other and I found myself with my arms wrapped tightly around my body. Clint was gone and I was all alone in the dark with nothing but the horror that was my beaten soul.

  Panting. I shot up in bed sweating and trying to catch my breath. I looked around my room to get some clarity. A dream? Not just a dream. Memories. Fuck!

  I pulled myself out of bed and ran to my bathroom and to the basin, grasping both sides of it to keep myself steady. Suddenly I jerked forward holding my mouth. I turned back around and only barely made it to the toilet as the contents of my stomach spewed forth into the toilet bowl. I leaned over the toilet with one arm against the wall in front of me, my head resting to the side on my shoulder as I tried to gather my equilibrium. I felt like I couldn’t breathe, my other hand going to my chest as I fought with my body to suck air into my lungs. I went back to the basin, ran the faucet and splashed some cool water onto my face to calm myself down. My breathing finally slowed and I stood up watching myself in the mirror.

  Thinking back to the dream, which really was a horrific memory that I kept hidden in my mind, other obscene flashes started to pop up into my head. It was like that one memory had unlocked all the other things I had hidden in that black hole. The dam had been finally broken and I was suddenly surrounded by a stifling assortment of haunting mental imagery. I jerked forward again holding my mouth. Fuck!

  This time only bile escaped my lips and into the toilet bowl. This was all too much for me to handle right now, especially alone in the dead of night. Immediately I felt the darkness crawl all over my skin and start to take over. I knew I couldn’t let that happen. I had fought too hard and too long to be taken over by such mind shattering visions that I had pushed into the darkest corners of my soul under lock and key. I had to find a release. What to do? What to do? Paint.

  Hurrying to the paint room, I stripped bare as I walked; tossing my clothes aside in the hallway, my fists seething in rage. This was not like me when I started a piece. I was in a different state of mind. I was letting these memories lead me when normally it was the control I used over them that inspired my work. I felt possessed and overwhelmed and I knew this was going to be a different experience the moment I stepped into the paint room.

  Reaching the paint room, I flung on the light, pressed play on my iPod, and covered myself head to toe in black paint. Enter Sandman by Metallica filled the room. I looked at the flat canvas on the ground that I was about to start on, but then my hands started to tremble, changing into a rough frantic shake. The shaking increased and my eyes closed hard as I started to yell, “No, no, no, no, no, NO!” My teeth clenched and my breathing rapidly increased until everything became a reaction. It was too late. Too much darkness and too many memories had consumed me.

  I picked up the canvas from the floor and flung it across the room. Grabbing the tins of nearby paint, I propelled each one of them like tiny missiles to all corners of the walls. They burst open like exploding water balloons as they hit the walls, the paint erupting from the tins, streaking and sliding off the mess sheets that covered the whole room.

  I started clawing at the walls and ripping down the mess sheets one by one, tossing them frantically to the ground. I walked over to where I had thrown the canvas, dropped to my knees and started punching at it until I tore holes, and then switched to shredding it with clenched fingers until I felt my fingernails break and begin to bleed. The blood trickled down from my fingers and onto the floor, and I found myself frozen yet again, staring at blood.

  I curled up on the floor next to the destroyed canvas, completely naked, covered in paint, and bleeding amongst the destruction that was once my paint room. I didn’t move, I couldn’t. I sobbed loudly as dark horrid images flashed through my head, twisting me up inside, paralyzing me with emotional pain. For this night, they took me over. I was a shell of a body; weak and disabled on the floor, tortured by the beasts of my past.

  If I die before I wake, pray the lord my soul to take.

  Chapter 15

  For Consideration

  As I walked out of the gun range the following afternoon, I flexed my hands inside the brown leather gloves I was wearing. They helped ease the pain and cover the shame of what I had done to my fingers the night before. I took in a big gulp of fresh afternoon air, letting it fill me and keep my mind calm and clean. I had spent most of the day at the range trying to get a sense of con
trol back. I had let the scars of my past overpower me and I hated feeling weak more than anything.

  I stretched my whole body, lifting my arms way up over my head, as if I had just crawled out of bed. I stared up towards the clouds, thinking about how nice it would be to be floating in the air right now, away from the reality that was my life. I was finally getting a sense of power back from my inner turmoil. Those types of episodes such as the one that unfolded in my paint room, were not uncommon for me, especially back in high school. I hadn’t had one since I arrived here. I thought I had left it all behind, but I was quickly realizing that as good as I could run, I couldn’t hide from my past.

  A long black limousine pulled out in front of me, missing my shoes by inches. I was about to yell obscenities at the driver who clearly had no regard for pedestrians, when the window automatically rolled down.

  My sense of control was about to be challenged.

  “Miss Rossi, we need to have a talk.” Arthur Wickburn’s hard stare eyed me up and down. “Why don’t you hop in?” His striking face was nodding, suggestively encouraging me into the limo.

  “I thought Clint gave you my answer,” I half yelled at him through the open car window. He had some nerve approaching me like this. He was lucky I didn't kick the limo door in after that manipulative stunt he pulled with Clint.

  “Please get in Ms Rossi; you should hear what I have to say.”

  I thought about walking off, but then I figured I could clear this up once and for all, so I reluctantly climbed into the limo. I really needed to set him straight. My tolerance for all things 'Lappell' had reached its final leg.

  “Look, if you knew I was a Rossi, then why all the theatrics?” I said, eyeing him suspiciously as I sat across from him in the black leather interior. Suddenly his looks weren't so handsome anymore, but sinister. The shadows on his face seemed to come alive and make him look like a cartoon villain. It's all I could see.

  “For your benefit of course. We didn’t want to scare you off.”

  I shook my head, “You think that would scare me off? What about the fact that you sent Clint to date me so I would join the Lappell. Did you think that kind of manipulation would help your cause?”

  He leaned back a little, “You know about that?” He looked only a little surprised.

  “I do.”

  His phone buzzed in his pants’ pocket. Wickburn pulled it out, checked the screen and shut it forcefully. “Who told you? Was it Mr. Weston?” He watched for my reaction. “Or maybe it was your little friend Josh.”

  I kept my face still, not wanting to give anything away. “Maybe I found out on my own.”

  Wickburn laughed at the notion.“I find that hard to believe.”

  I felt offended, “Why? You don’t think I’ve got my own contacts here?”

  Arthur grunted, amused. “No Miss Rossi, I don’t. I think you came here to distance yourself as much as possible from New York.”

  He was right, but I didn’t confirm it.

  “But let’s get to the matter at hand shall we, your acceptance.” He grinned and I looked hard at him so he couldn’t misinterpret my reaction.

  “My answer is no. Now can you leave Clint, myself and Josh alone?”

  An even bigger evil grin spread along his face. “Let’s talk about Clint and Josh shall we?”

  I started to fumble with my hands, now feeling a bit nervous about what he was about to say. “What about them?”

  “Well, you care about both of them don’t you?”

  I swallowed, “You already know I do.”

  He leaned towards me, “Because I’d hate to see something happen to either of them just because you couldn’t say yes to a simple little proposal.”

  My face furrowed and I felt the heat rise up in my body as my pulse quickened. The cartoon villain with the evil grin is threatening me!

  “Are you saying you would hurt them if I don’t join your pathetic little club? That’s blackmail.”

  Wickburn smirked again, “You don’t miss a thing do you.” He had a look of arrogance, like he had already won the battle.

  “I’m not scared of you,” I blurted out defensively.

  “I know you are not scared of me, I’m not trying to scare you. I’m just making you aware that your decision may have consequences, and those consequences may have a detrimental impact on you in other ways. Surely you don’t want to have blood on your hands?”

  The mere mention of blood started to churn my stomach. My hands hidden in my gloves, began to throb as the word 'blood' echoed in my mind. The blackness in me started to re-emerge.

  Focus Norah.

  “You know what you are doing is really fucked up.” I just wanted to spit in his face.

  “No Miss Rossi, what I’m doing is smart. Now, I’m a busy man and have important things to do.” He then used his hand to gesture me towards the door. “I’m giving you one week to come to your senses before I demonstrate just how serious I can be.”

  Feeling nauseous, I started to climb out of the limo, wanting to get as far away as I could from the Lappell and Wickburn’s threats. I was now in a very complicated position and felt sick to my stomach with the problem I now had to face.

  “Oh Miss Rossi,” I turned back to face him, trying to restrain my body from becoming physically violent.

  “This is a wonderful opportunity for you and your family. Together with the Lappell, we would be an unstoppable force. Why would you want to prevent that?”

  I shot back, “Because I want to control my own life and my own future, and I won’t let you, and certainly won’t let the Lappell be a part of that. No one controls my fucking destiny but me.”

  Chapter 16

  Girls’ Night

  I didn’t expect to see Tess when I opened my apartment door that evening. I thought for certain that Josh would be back by now, so when I saw Tess, my eyes welled in sudden disappointment. It wasn’t that I wasn’t glad to have a friend at my door, but after my slip into that dream/memory, I needed Josh now more than ever.

  Tess was wide eyed when she saw me. I suppose it was the state I was in. My eyes were teary, hair tangled around my face, and my shoulders hunched. I also had Teardrop by Massive Attack on repeat on my iPod blaring in the background, but she wasn’t looking at my face or hair. She was staring intently at my hands which were still crusted with blood and paint from the demolishment of my paint room. I had made no effort to remove the paint lodged under my broken nails and at that moment, I regretted my laziness.

  “Your hands.” She reached out to touch them but I pulled them back behind my body, using it as a shield to hide what I had done.

  “It’s nothing really.”

  Tess pushed past me as she walked in. She looked around curiously. I don’t know what she expected to find just by surveying the apartment. “Nothing hey. You haven’t been to class in two days Norah. Something’s up.” She looked back to me and then to my hands which I still had hidden behind my back. “What’s with your hands, they look like you’ve run them over a grater, except you also have paint…” She trailed off and then started walking down the hallway.

  “Tess, where are you going? You can’t just barge in here and,”

  I heard her gasp as I caught up to her.

  She was standing in the doorway open to my paint room. “Norah! What. The. Fuck.”

  I refused to go near the door and instead planted my back up against the hallway wall as I watched her go from shocked to horrified. Her head finally turned to me waiting for some kind of explanation.

  “I, I, I… have some stuff going on.” It was all I could manage to get out.

  “Really, I couldn’t tell,” and there she was, sarcastic Tess. “You need to talk to me Norah. I know you don’t say all that much about what goes on in your life, and I respect you enough not to ask more than you are willing to tell me, but this,” her hands went flying towards the room like an arrow, “needs some serious fucking discussion.”

  That’s when
I cracked. I threw my body back against the wall, slamming my back hard and then slumping to the ground, bursting into tears. Tess ran over to me and crouched down beside my shuddering body. She rubbed my back. “You can trust me Norah. Talk to me, OK.”

  I lifted my head and nodded, wiping my face. “I think maybe we should go get a drink, get you out of this apartment for a while. Do you think you can do that?” I nodded again as she helped me to my feet.

  As soon as we sat down at a booth at Dudley’s, my mouth opened up like a broken dam and spewed forth every little drama currently taking place in my world, leaving out only Samuel’s reappearance and the threats from Wickburn. I didn’t want to involve her with details that could potentially hurt her. I managed to restrain myself from being completely selfish.

  After my deluge of information was laid out to Tess, she took a deep breath and lifted her hand to catch the attention of a very rough looking, stocky waiter, “Dos tequila shots please,” she ordered. I raised my eyebrows.

  “Oh, one of them is for you Norah.” I went to refuse but decided against it. I really could use a drink. When the shots arrived, Tess downed hers before mine even touched my lips. I followed close behind Tess, practically inhaling my shot, and then we sat and waited until we both visibly relaxed into the corner of the booth. The shot actually helped calm the air between us.

  “So let me get this straight, your real name is Lenorah Rossi, daughter of ‘Big Joe’, the most well known, and might I add, the most lethal mob boss from the Rossi mob in New York.”

  I pulled both my lips together into a hard line and nodded.

  “And you were sent here because you were engaged to a guy… ah, you said Samuel right, from a rival… ah… group that your dad didn’t approve of and wouldn't allow you to marry?”